


Bucky, come back!

by newtypeshadow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teen Wolf (TV) Fusion, And it is a gift they give to the world, Avengers as Pack, Banshees, Built werewolf men are allergic to shirts in Teen Wolf, But doesn't have to be read as such, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Except Alexander Pierce who deserves it and dies 4 words in, Gen, Kanimas, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Past Mind Control, Pre-Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark, Public Nudity, Reunions, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Unselfconscious Nudity, Werewolves, accidental nudity, everyone lives and nobody dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:45:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtypeshadow/pseuds/newtypeshadow
Summary: If the Avengers were inTeen Wolf, Bucky Barnes would be a kanima (a mind-controlled lizard monster), and his werewolf friend Steve and banshee friend Natasha would try to save him—especially now that their pack has finally killed his master.





	Bucky, come back!

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Day 8 prompt of the [February Ficlet Challenge 2019](https://februaryficletchallenge.tumblr.com/post/182166753514/ffc-2019-approaches), "Crossover: put today’s characters in the world of the next pairing on your list." The next pairing was Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, so off to Teen Wolflandia our MCU character go!
> 
> Title to the tune of [“Baby Come Back” by Player](https://youtu.be/Hn-enjcgV1o).
> 
> I played fast and loose with some of Teen Wolf's lore—you've been warned.
> 
> And speaking of warnings: This story is marked both "No Archive Warnings Apply" and "Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings" because if one hasn't read all the tags (or the fic), some archive warnings may seem appropriate until they don't. For more information, see end notes.

When Clint shoots Pierce, his pet kanima stops attacking.

In fact, the giant lizard man stills completely. He stops snarling through his sharp, bared fangs; his long, thick, dextrous tail stops snapping with agitation and whipping itself at Steve’s pack, forcing them all to keep their distance; his empty hand, tipped with razor-sharp claws that excrete paralyzing venom, stops in its windup to slice Tony’s throat—Tony, the only member of the pack who isn’t a trained fighter. Tony, a regular human with no super-healing, and one of Steve’s best friends.

The person who’s been controlling the kanima’s mind and giving him orders for years is dead now. The kanima no longer has a master.

Steve hopes that means he and Natasha can finally bring Bucky out of the fog he’s been trapped in since Pierce abducted him and turned him into the kanima, forced him to do monstrous things. Steve wonders if this is the first time Bucky’s been alone in his own head since he disappeared on leave years ago. If not for Natasha’s sordid past, Steve would still think Bucky died falling into that ravine…

But there’s no time to think about that, because Bucky is still a giant, superhumanly strong lizard whose deadly claws are holding Tony a foot off the ground by his oversized MIT hoodie. To Steve’s werewolf ears—sharper now in his beta form, just like his claws that were fingernails and the fangs his teeth have elongated into—Tony’s quick breaths and thundering heartbeat are suddenly the loudest sounds in the abandoned train station. They’re not out of the woods yet.

Tony reaches up to grab the kanima’s wrists, likely to steady himself or, worse, make it let go, and Steve is very conscious of how close those claws are to Tony’s rabbiting heart, how fast the kanima could strike a killing blow. How easily Bucky could kill Tony without knowing what he’d done.

Steve growls, “Tony! _Don’t. Move_.”

The kanima’s yellow eyes snap to Steve’s face—and he hurls Tony at it.

Bruce roars.

Thor yells, “Tony!”

Nat snarls, “Shit!”

Everything happens so fast.

Steve catches Tony and pivots, deposits him safely on his feet behind himself and Natasha, who are the only people in the room Bucky actually knows and thus is less likely to hurt. (They hope.) Steve hears an inhuman shriek of pain, and when he turns he realizes Natasha’s outburst wasn’t worry for Tony—it was for Bucky.

There’s a crossbow bolt buried in the kanima’s scaly back, and the impact of Bruce’s berserker shoulder against his side a moment later sends him crashing into the far wall hard enough to shatter bricks.

“Stop! Stand down!” Steve yells at his pack, waving them off as he sprints for Bucky.

Electricity moves faster than werewolves though, and before Steve can reach him, the kanima starts convulsing as streams of electricity pour into it from Thor’s outstretched hands.

Thor only stops when Steve drops to his knees beside the kanima’s prone form and touches his scaly skin, heedless of the painful shocks that riot up his own arms. The scent of cooked meat and melted scales sends bile into Steve’s throat, not because he hasn’t smelled worse, but because the acrid scent comes from one of his best friends. “Bucky,” he breathes, rolling the kanima half into his lap and yanking the crossbow bolt out. He’s sickened by the squelching sound it makes, the way it sticks for a moment before it moves, the sensation of the jagged head knocking into bone as it comes out. He drops his beta shift and hurls the arrow away. “No. No no no,” he finds himself mumbling. There’s way too much blood coming out of that wound—it’s not healing the way it should be. “Was there yellow wolfsbane in that arrow?” Steve knows he sounds hysterical, but doesn’t care.

“Of course,” Clint says, sounding only marginally apologetic. “It’s the only thing that really slows them down.”

The wound isn’t closing. Bucky’s not moving. Steve pulls his friend into his lap, presses his hand to the wound, cradles the serpentine head with his arm, and tries to figure out what to do beyond maintaining the comforting babble that’s started pouring from his lips. The only thing keeping him together is that Natasha, who’s a banshee, isn’t screaming them all deaf right now, which means Bucky isn’t about to die—not yet, at least. Natasha crouches on the kanima’s other side and Steve smells the sharp, brief scent of yellow wolfsbane burning to ash—the antidote to yellow wolfsbane poisoning—and then she pulls aside Steve’s hand and slots her own over the wound, packing in the pungent ash so Bucky’s body can start to heal. When she nods at him, Steve presses his hand back into place to staunch the wound that still isn’t closing. Natasha’s hand presses firmly against his. They wait and hope.

“James,” Natasha croons, somewhere between a prayer and a curse.

Steve hears the others moving around the station behind them, knows they’re making an effort to be quiet, to give him and Nat space, and that they’re keeping watch. Grateful and safe, he tunes them out.

Bucky’s wound still isn’t healing.

“Steve,” Natasha says, “can you take his pain?”

Steve will try anything at this point. He presses his hand more firmly against Bucky’s wound and focuses on drawing out the pain. It’s a strange sensation, taking pain from a lizard creature instead of a human. It feels like ice as it flows into his veins and up his arm. It feels unnatural, and it _hurts_ in places unaccustomed to feeling _anything_.

But the scales are receding into human flesh, so Steve grits his teeth and keeps pulling.

Bucky’s eyes blink open. They’re still yellow, slitted lizard eyes. He squints up at Steve in confusion.

“Buck?” Steve says tremulously. “It’s Steve. Do you remember who I am?”

Bucky winces, his eyes glaze, and then his irises become that familiar blue-gray, turn into regular human eyes. His gaze sharpens again and he blinks up at Steve. “Steve? ’S it really you?”

“Yeah,” Steve says around the lump in his throat, “it’s really me. I’m here.” His lips twitch, and he shifts his face into his beta form and then lets it fall away. “Still no eyebrows, as someone once rudely pointed out to me.”

Bucky chuckles, choppy and wet and shallow. “Said it a lot more than once,” he says. And though his grin is a pale imitation of what it once was, Steve’s face answers it automatically.

“Oh, you tell jokes now?” Natasha says, tone sharp but voice and eyes fond.

Bucky’s gaze slides to her and his expression tumbles through an emotional kaleidoscope before settling on relief. “You lived. Good.”

She takes his hand, which is a human hand again. “I had a ringer in my corner,” she says, eyes glassy. “You saved my life, you know. Pierce was inside your head, controlling you, and you still found a way to make him think I was dead. No one came looking for me because of you—not the Hydras, not the Reds. I’ve been…free. Life’s been good.”

Bucky looks elated, and then his face twists and he looks back at Steve with trepidation. “I… Stevie, I killed a lot of people. With him.” His voice is worryingly thready. “Good people.”

“I know,” Steve says gently. Natasha participated in some of those murders. She discovered James was a kanima and Pierce was controlling him; Steve figured out her James was his Bucky; and Tony’s research into kanimas and Pierce explained the rest. “But Buck, it wasn’t your fault.” Steve’s tone brooks no argument. “You’re good people too.”

“Am I?” Bucky says it like the answer is no, like he believes he’s the monster Pierce forced him to be.

But there are no monsters left in this room—Pierce is dead. “Of course you are,” Steve says, and that’s a hill he will die on.

The hope on Bucky’s face makes him seem impossibly young, even as his voice sounds weathered and worn when, glancing between Steve and Natasha, he says, “‘M glad you’re here. Even after… after what I…”

“Of course,” Natasha says. “Always.”

Steve nods, resolute. “We’re with you ’til the end of the line, Buck. Nothing will ever change that.”

A look of peace steals over Bucky’s face. His eyes shutter closed.

His body feels suddenly heavier.

Cold stops flowing up Steve’s arm. He tries to pull more pain, but it’s like there’s nothing there to pull.

Natasha’s hand clenches against Steve’s.

He looks at her helplessly. Is she going to scream?

“He’s…he’s going to be okay.” Natasha says it like she wants to believe it, not like she actually does.

Steve starts praying frantically. The wound isn’t bleeding warmth through his fingers anymore. Bucky’s heartbeat has slowed to a crawl—or has it stopped?

Then…

Bucky’s scent changes. Its reptile undertones shift to something warm, familiar. He convulses once in Steve’s arms, and then his features _shift_. His brows and the bridge of his nose pull forward, the tips of his ears sharpen, his sideburns flair, and a riot of fur jags out from them down to his jaw.

It’s a werewolf beta shift.

Tony said a werewolf bite gone wrong can turn a person into a kanima—something about psychological conflict and bite circumstances—but in rare cases, with love and support, the person’s mind will heal itself, and their body will complete its transition from human to werewolf, and they’ll be healthy and whole again.

The wound against Steve’s palm knits itself closed.

Steve has never been so happy he cried before, but there’s a first time for everything.

The beta shift recedes and it’s just Bucky, warm and alive and confused to be blinking awake on Steve’s blood-soaked lap.

Natasha smiles, and it looks wild and uninhibited on her ever-contained face. “Welcome back, soldier.”

Steve nods, wipes his eyes. “I think you gave me a heart attack, and werewolves shouldn’t get those.” He’s going for stern, but his smile ruins it.

Bucky rolls his eyes like Steve wasn’t half serious about that heart attack. “Always hafta do the impossible, dontcha?”

“I know,” Natasha grumbles, “and yet he won’t buy me a Powerball ticket.”

“Steve, how could you refuse a lady like Nat? Thought you were a gentleman.”

Steve purses his lips and glares halfheartedly at them. “I think we’re done here,” he says. “C’mon, up. Nap time’s over.” He helps Bucky sit up. Bucky folds his legs under himself—

And an MIT hoodie lands on his face. Followed swiftly by a pair of jeans.

Before Steve or Natasha can dress down the interloper, Tony’s standing over the trio with a put-upon expression—and without his hoodie. Behind him, Thor’s grinning widely and wearing no pants.

Bucky pulls the shirt into his lap, where the jeans have fallen, and looks up, stunned and confused.

“You’re naked,” Tony clarifies. “How am I the only one that notices these things?” he asks the room at large. “The view’s great, by the way, ten out of ten, excellent muscle definition, but seriously. Am I the _only one_ who notices when you werewolves run around naked? What did shirts do to _hurt_ you?” He throws up his hands and turns, leaving two (hopefully three) packmates gaping behind him. With a whirl of Tony’s finger, Thor turns his back too, revealing the tiny hammers-and-axes pattern on his boxers is accompanied by “ASS GUARDIAN” emblazoned in red on the back. “Get dressed, Reptile,” Tony calls back, “then the three of you need to get over here and help us deal with this dead shithead.”

“Well said,” Thor says, clapping Tony’s shoulder. They join Bruce and Clint, the latter of whom is suggesting increasingly ridiculous corpse disposal ideas—and immediately start trying to outdo him.

Natasha rolls her eyes. Steve snorts and shakes his head. Bucky stares after Tony like he’s a Rubik’s cube and Bucky’s suddenly been cured of achromatopsia. “Who…?”

Steve grins. “That’s Tony Stark. Remember, the guy who helped me learn how to be a werewolf? Built that custom rifle I gave you? You were finally going to meet him the day you, uh…” Vanished. Purportedly died. Steve viciously shoves that pain out of his mind. Bucky is here now, and he’s _fine_. “Well.” Steve clears his throat. “You should probably get dressed. Do you need help, or—?”

“I remember how clothes work,” Bucky says, chuckling quietly and standing. When he joins Steve and Nat with the pack a minute later, he’s dressed, and his soft smile holds despite the shadows that cloud his eyes when he sees Pierce.

Steve throws a comforting arm around Bucky’s shoulders and flashes him a sly grin. “Remember Siberia?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “With the Howlies? Nearly lost an arm on that op. Not the kinda thing you forget.”

“Good,” Steve says. “Then you remember what we did with Zemo.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, and he laughs. “You’re such a punk!”

Steve shrugs and tugs him closer with the gesture, grin unwavering. “Time for a pack bonding exercise,” he announces to his ragtag group of avengers. “After the Chitauri hunters and the Ultron pack, we all know a few ways to get rid of a body. Today, me and Bucky here are gonna show you one of our favorites.”

**Author's Note:**

> Potential Archive Warnings (contains spoilers):  
> 1) Graphic Depictions of Violence: While this story contains _Teen Wolf_ canon-typical violence, I don't think it's to archive warning levels. To err on the side of caution, however, this fic is rated "Mature".  
> 2) Major Character Death: As in the _Teen Wolf_ scene that inspired this fic, the major character who is the kanima seems, very briefly, to die—but the death doesn't stick, and afterwards, he's much better off than before.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this! If you did, do leave kudos and/or comments to let me know. ♥


End file.
